


Hole-Hearted

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kabeshiri, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Purring Keith (Voltron), Rimming, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Stuck in a wall, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro accidentally drops the engagement ring he wants to give to Keith and it falls into an access chute on their ship, so he crawls in after it... and gets stuck.When Keith finds him like that, Shiro has to do some quick-thinking to come up with a non-ring related excuse as to why he got stuck in the first place. Obviously distracting your boyfriend with sex is the way to go.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 104
Kudos: 362





	Hole-Hearted

**Author's Note:**

> I made a joke about writing kabeshiri Shiro forever ago and then I was enabled, so here we are. When asking for reasons why Shiro would feasibly get stuck somewhere, there were SO many hilarious suggestions. I totally encourage you to [read through what some of you said](https://twitter.com/stardropdream/status/1296477566136655874), haha. I tried to homage a few of the choices. In the end, I went with Ash's suggestion for the engagement ring because it was just so dumb and earnest. 
> 
> I made a joke about naming this "a hole new world" and everyone was like "do it" but it didn't quite fit the vibe of this fic. Obviously "hole-hearted" does lol I'm hilarious. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this nonsense.

Shiro doesn’t _mean_ to drop the ring. 

It just sort of happens. 

He’s been really good about keeping the engagement ring hidden, switching its location every few days so that Keith won’t find it before Shiro’s ready to present it. He’s been switching locations, keeping it on his person or tucked away in hidden places. Shiro even took it out of its box last week because the black velvet was way too obvious and hiding a small ring is much easier. 

Maybe that’s the problem. A single ring is easy to drop, after all. It’s a simple mistake. One moment, he holds the shining band pinched between his fingers, admiring the way it glints, and the next moment, it’s popping out of his grasp, hitting the floor, and bouncing away. 

Shiro makes a grab for it. But he misses the mark, batting the ring away so it knocks across the room instead. It bounces and bounces and bounces— straight into an access chute. 

“Shit!” 

The ring rattles on its way down and Shiro rushes to the chute, opening the grate and sticking his head in. Thankfully, the ring isn’t lost to the depths of the ship. Instead, it sits just a few feet away, on one level down, and Shiro breathes a sigh of relief. 

He doesn’t have a set plan or time for when he wants to propose to Keith— he’s been waiting for that right moment to strike— but the last thing he needs right now is to lose the ring in the depths of a flyer they’re borrowing on their current mission.

If it were Atlas, he’d just ask her to reshape the chute for him— maybe a conveyer belt to bring the ring back to him. But instead of Atlas, Shiro and Keith are traveling in a non-sentient, two-person flyer for a rendezvous with diplomatic groups. The humanitarian project is Keith’s baby and it involves rebuilding cities and sharing critical technology, and Shiro’s so proud of how happily Keith’s jumped into universal community organizing, so proud to watch him thrive. Keith commands respect every time he enters the room, negotiating and spearheading projects across the universe to help better everyone. 

It’d been sappiness and sentiment that persuaded Shiro to bring the ring with them on the trip, just in case there was a good moment to propose to Keith. 

And now the ring is sitting on an outcropped panel in the access chute. Shiro could feasibly leave it in there— it’d be safe enough— and fish it out with Atlas’ help once they return to her, but the thought of not having the ring on his person makes Shiro squirm with anxiety. 

It's not too far away. Shiro pulls his head out of the access chute so he can stick his hand in instead, pressing his cheek against the wall as he stretches his arm out across the flat expanse and down into the chute, trying to reach the ring. He wriggles and squirms but no matter what angle he tries, he just can’t quite manage to touch the ring. 

The chute is large enough that he can shoulder into it, he figures. It takes some maneuvering and squirming, but he feels his fingers inch ever closer to grasping the ring. He shimmies in, his chest sliding against the cold metal of the access chute. He digs his feet into the ground so he can push himself in deeper, shoulders nudging. 

He's never missed his Altean arm quite like he does in this moment. If he still had it and hadn’t replaced his arm with an attached model, he’d have the ring in his hand right now. The old arm was clunky in some ways, but there was an undeniable convenience to a floating, disembodied arm that wasn’t limited by something as foolishly human as ‘arms-reach’. 

The chute feels tight around Shiro as his shoulders slide in, pressing in against him like a clingy hug. Shiro grunts as he wriggles forward, the ring glinting almost mockingly before him. Shiro’s just glad he’s not claustrophobic. 

He lets out a soft laugh of triumph as his fingers close around the ring. “Finally—” 

But when he tries to draw out of the chute again, he can’t. 

His shoulders feel tight against the walls: he’s wedged in. Shiro wriggles, his arm stretched out in front of him and the other pinned at his side, and can’t find purchase enough to squeeze his way back out again. He’s stuck. 

Naturally, this is how Keith finds him. 

Shiro hears the door to the flyer’s sleeping quarters open, hears the familiar sounds of Keith’s footfalls as he enters, and hears his own sigh of mortification as he realizes Keith is going to find him like this. 

“Shiro, do you—” 

Keith stops talking abruptly, undoubtedly as he spots Shiro. Shiro really can’t even picture what Keith is seeing or what he’s thinking in the split second it takes for him to recognize that Shiro is, indeed, stuck in a ship’s access tube on his knees and with his ass up in the air. 

“Shiro?” Keith sounds torn between concern and amusement, his footsteps growing louder as he comes closer to him. “What are you doing?” 

“Hi, Keith,” Shiro says, his voice rattling around him. He wants to laugh; he has to assume this is the least dignified way Keith’s ever found him. “I’m, uh, stuck.” 

“I can see that,” Keith says. He sounds close now, likely kneeling right where Shiro is. 

Shiro doesn’t even have to ask before Keith grips him by his hips, tugging to pull him back out of the hole. Keith touches him with the easy intimacy Shiro’s used to, although this context is far different from other times Keith might touch his hips like this, might kneel behind him with a soft, soothing voice. 

Shiro really shouldn’t be blushing. If Atlas were here, she’d be laughing at the way his thoughts race. Or whatever the equivalent of a laugh might be for a sentient ship. It tends to feel like ripples in his mind. 

But Keith, even with his elevated Galra strength, can’t get Shiro to budge. Shiro listens to him grunt with the effort of it, his fingers flexing on his hips in a way that makes Shiro blush deeper. 

Shiro can’t help but laugh. “We are definitely going to be late for the policy meeting.” 

“Undoubtedly,” Keith says. Shiro’s teasing must keep him from being overly concerned, although one hand stays cupped over Shiro’s hip. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah! I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry,” Shiro says. “Just feeling very stupid for getting stuck.” 

Keith squeezes his hip in sympathy. Shiro focuses on it as a grounding, central point. He’s telling the truth, of course— he feels stupid, but he’s not hurt and he’s not panicking because of a tight space. Keith’s hand on him is a comforting thing to focus on, a centering anchor. Keith is instinctive in the ways he cares for Shiro, how he can soothe Shiro without even realizing he’s doing it. Just Keith’s hand on him is enough to make Shiro feel safe. 

And then Keith asks: “How the hell did this happen, anyway?” 

Shiro stares at his hand clenched securely around the ring and feels dread slam through him. He can’t very well tell Keith the truth. _I crawled in after the ring I’ve been working up the nerve to give to you when I ask you to marry me, no big deal!_

“Uh,” Shiro says. He shimmies his shoulders, hoping he can work himself free. But no luck— he barely moves at all, securely lodged into this chute. He’s not getting out of here. 

Keith’s still waiting for an answer. 

“… There was a mouse creature,” Shiro says. “It got stuck in here and I wanted to help free it.” 

It sounds like a lie as soon as he says it. Shiro is usually better at improvisation than this and the dumb lie makes him want to cringe. He’s never been good at lying to Keith, even innocuous things like this, and he isn’t surprised when Keith scoffs. 

“You’re kidding,” Keith says, the hand smoothing up his hip and settling at the small of his back, a pleasant weight. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m kidding,” Shiro squeaks out, forcing a laugh. 

He squirms, desperate for a viable reason he could be stuck. If he were on Atlas, he could just blame her— _She’s just playing a joke! She just wants me to rest! She got confused!_. Nevermind Atlas’ jokes tend to be gentler than this. He considers blaming the wolf— _He’s so used to transporting you that he didn’t account for my weight!_ — but he knows Keith won’t buy that for a second. _I’ve been working out too much and didn’t realize my own width!_ could work, but doesn’t explain why he’d be crawling into the chute in the first place. _Someone told me I wouldn’t fit, so I wanted to prove them wrong!_ sounds like something he’d do, but he refuses to give Keith more ammunition to tease him. 

Keith’s hand soothes over the exposed line of his lower back, swirling circles along his back dimples and clearly mistaking Shiro’s tension for frustration at being stuck, not frustration at his own lack of creativity. He needs an excuse that feels believable. 

“Anyway,” Keith says. “Let me grab the wolf and he can port you out.” 

Shiro thinks of the moment he teleports back in front of Keith, how Keith will be curious about what Shiro is holding. There is no way he’s proposing to Keith in such a lackluster way. He isn’t emotionally prepared yet to give Keith the _You’re the love of my life, please be with me forever_ speech he has planned. If he looks into Keith’s eyes, he really won’t be able to lie. At least when he’s stuck in this damn chute, Keith doesn’t have to see his abysmal poker face. 

Shiro thinks, clawing for some sort of distraction or excuse he can offer. 

“I want you to fuck me!” Shiro says in a rush, the words bursting out of him.

Keith freezes. Shiro can feel him do so, the hand on his back stilling. 

“What?” Keith wheezes out, like he’s still torn between genuine concern and laughing. Shiro can only picture what his face must look like— the cutest flush to his cheeks, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. 

Neither of them is shy about suggesting sex things, really. This is hardly the weirdest request one of them has offered, although overall Shiro would characterize him and Keith as borderline vanilla. Yes, they’ve fucked in semi-public locations, or Keith once pretended to be a fantasy prince waiting to be saved by Shiro the helpful paladin, but at the end of the day, Shiro’s favorite thing to do is be with Keith, spending hours mapping out his body, looking into his eyes as they move together. 

And now Shiro’s stuck in an access chute with his ass out and, well— he’s thinking about it. 

It’s as good a lie as any. And suitably distracting. If he can make Keith not think about the real reason he’s stuck here, then that’s a win. 

“It’s, uh,” Shiro says, brain scrambling. “A fantasy I’ve been thinking about, you know? I’m— er. I was trying to see if maybe this one would work and then I just got stuck.”

“You want me to fuck you while you’re stuck in the wall?” Keith asks, and Shiro can’t read his tone. Yeah, it sounds ridiculous when he says it like _that._ Shiro wishes he could see Keith’s face, see the silly things his eyebrows are doing, whether he’s fighting back a smile or not. Keith’s hand hasn’t left Shiro’s back, which is a good sign. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says, sounding breathless. Oh, maybe he actually does like this idea beyond just a distraction technique. 

Hell, sex with Keith is always great. It’s hardly a sacrifice or a lie in that department. 

“I’m not having sex with you while you stare at a rodent,” Keith says, teasing. 

Shiro wants to laugh, tilting his chin down. He stares at his hand, clenched around the ring. No, there’s no better sight, actually, considering what it’ll be like to give Keith this ring eventually. He wonders how Keith will react. Shiro knows he’ll say yes, it’s impossible for even him to delude himself into Keith saying no, but Shiro’s not sure if he’ll cry, if he’ll just jump Shiro, if he'll laugh, or if he’ll even remember to answer _before_ leaping at him. 

“There’s not actually a rodent,” Shiro says. “I was just— uh, embarrassed. About you finding me like this before I could ask you.” 

Keith scoffs again, the hand on Shiro’s back sliding down pointedly over his ass before lifting to cup his hip again. It’s a teasing touch, the kind Keith does when he’s endeared by a sexual suggestion despite himself. He’s probably amused by Shiro’s ridiculousness, but he’s also not saying no. 

“Is that really comfortable for you?” 

Shiro licks his lips. “You could always distract me, baby.” 

Keith snorts a louder laugh this time and smacks his hand against the back of Shiro’s thigh. It makes Shiro squirm, nothing fake about that, and bite his lip. He can’t really writhe like this, but the urge is there. He might be wedged in by his shoulders and chest, but his hips are free. He wriggles back, just a little, teasing. 

“You are so ridiculous,” Keith says with a grumble. He squeezes Shiro’s hip and sighs. “I won’t be able to kiss you.” 

Shiro wants to laugh, his heart twisting up sweetly in his chest. Keith is always so ridiculously earnest. He feels himself blush. 

“I’ll kiss you for hours to make up for this later.” 

“You better,” Keith says, his hand gentler as it passes down his thigh. “Are you sure you’re comfortable like this?” 

“Not really,” Shiro says. He can be honest about that much. “But like I said— you could make me feel better? Distract me.” 

“You are insatiable, Shiro,” Keith says, laughing. It seems in the battle between amusement and concern, amusement has won. Shiro will count that as a victory. 

“If you want,” Shiro adds. “I mean…” He stares at his hand and swallows. “You can go grab the wolf instead, if you want. I didn’t mean to spring this on you.” 

“I don’t mind,” Keith says. He runs both hands down Shiro’s thighs and up, cupping his hips. Shiro feels Keith shift, settling behind him. Shiro’s hyper aware of every move he makes and every touch when he doesn’t have the visual confirmation of Keith’s movements. 

He's cosmically aware of Keith rubbing his thumb in a slow circle above Shiro’s hipbone. Keith’s touch is always soft, so fond. 

“You are the most ridiculous man, by the way,” Keith says.

Shiro presses his hips back, sighing out when Keith squeezes his hips. “You love me anyway.”

“Fuck, I really do,” Keith says with a chuckle. His voice has gone deeper, honey-rich and graveled out. It’s one of Shiro’s favorite sounds in the world, that switch between Keith in normal conversation to Shiro-focused conversation, the making-Shiro-feel-good tone. 

Keith is always so earnest, so good, so focused on him. It’s nearly overwhelming sometimes, just how intensely Keith’s attention can zero in on just Shiro until Shiro is the only thing in the entire universe. Shiro loves to watch that intensity run across Keith’s face, the way his eyes always find him, how Keith always watches him so closely. 

Shiro closes his eyes and can picture the way Keith looks in this moment, touching him, wanting to give Shiro everything he wants, everything he needs, everything he fantasizes about. Shiro really doesn’t deserve Keith, but he’ll always be grateful to have met him, to know him, to love him. 

And then Keith grips Shiro’s trousers and yanks them down. It startles a surprised yelp from Shiro. It makes Keith laugh. 

“I’d say hold still, but I guess you’re not going anywhere,” Keith says, his voice husky and teasing. “Right, big guy?” 

“Ha,” Shiro breathes, squirming back as Keith teases at him, running his fingers over his exposed skin. “You’ve got me right where you want me, baby.” 

Shiro can imagine Keith’s smirk. Shiro shivers as Keith touches him, palms pressed to his bare skin. Keith’s touch is warm, and his ever-present gloves are soft against his skin, the leather worn down and familiar. 

“Can’t believe you got yourself stuck,” Keith says, voice soft enough Shiro has to focus to hear it. “Are you really that big?” 

He hardly sounds like he’s complaining. Keith’s never been shy about admiring Shiro. Shiro wishes he could see Keith’s face, see that smile, that glitter of confidence in his eyes as he admires Shiro and _knows_ who he belongs to. 

“Gloves on or off?” Keith asks. 

“On,” Shiro says after some thought and gasps quietly when Keith immediately reaches to touch him, hand wrapping around his cock and squeezing. Shiro’s only half-hard, but Keith’s always taken that as a challenge.

He starts to stroke Shiro in luxurious pulls of his hand, angling his cock down for the different slide of it. It’s a perfect feeling, to know the familiar touch of Keith’s hand, to feel the way Keith presses closer to him. The angle’s a bit off, but that’s never stopped Keith from making Shiro feel good. 

Shiro focuses on the perfect glide of Keith’s hand, the softness of the leather gloves, the blissful roughness of Keith’s fingers in contrast. Keith strokes him with familiar confidence, assured of how he makes Shiro feel and knowing that he makes him feel good. Shiro trembles through it, expectation and pleasure already starting to build. 

Shiro does wish he could buck up and roll onto his back, tugging Keith down to kiss him. He loves kissing Keith, loves the perfect, warm slide of his mouth, the drag of his teeth across his bottom lip. 

He wonders what he must look like to Keith— the tremble of his thighs, the shift of his hips, the heave of his exposed belly, his shirt rucking up and his pants down at his knees. 

“Keith,” he moans as Keith strokes him off, twisting his hand. 

Keith just hums his response. Shiro hears him shift, but that isn’t nearly enough preparation for the feeling of Keith’s tongue sliding across his hole. It’s an abrupt touch and it makes Shiro gasp and shudder. 

“Oh fuck,” Shiro says breathlessly when Keith does it again, more pointedly, licking a wet stripe across Shiro’s skin. He strokes Shiro off as he does, licking and sucking over him. Without seeing Keith’s movements, without anticipating how he’ll reach for Shiro, it feels like its own form of sensory deprivation— all Shiro can do is focus on the touch of Keith’s hands, the slide of his tongue. 

Keith squeezes one hand around Shiro’s cock, now fully hard and pulsing in his hand. His other hand pulls Shiro open as he licks against his hole and laps down. He presses a teasing kiss against Shiro’s thigh, biting at the meat of his muscle, and it makes Shiro groan happily, his hips rocking forward.

“You like this, Shiro?” Keith asks, breath ghosting warm and damp against Shiro’s skin. 

“You know— you know I do,” Shiro says in answer, shuddering when Keith presses his thumb against the crown of his cock. 

“You good with this?” Keith asks, kissing the dimples of Shiro’s lower back. He’s so close, radiating heat, and Shiro feels helpless like this, disheveled and pants shoved down, stuck and at Keith’s mercy. But Keith is gentle, and he knows what Shiro likes— Shiro might be stuck, but he’s never been happier to be in Keith’s control. 

Shiro’s fingers clench ahead of him, tight around the ring, and Shiro feels a flood of warmth and affection pulse through him, twisting up with arousal and desire. He wants to be with Keith forever, wants to always make Keith feel good. Forever. 

“I want to feel you,” Shiro says. “Take what you want, baby. I’m yours.” 

It’s the right thing to say. He hears Keith let loose a deep groan, feels the way he shudders with his body so close to his, his hands on him. Keith is only rarely what Shiro would call possessive, but Shiro loves it every time he can drag it out of him— loves it when Keith marks him with his teeth, loves tracing the bruises Keith leaves the next morning like a constellation spelling out Keith’s desire, loves to make Keith go feral with want, fucking into Shiro like he might own every inch of him, as if Shiro’s very soul isn’t already intrinsically Keith’s. 

“Yeah, baby?” Shiro says. He squirms his hips back, seeking more friction from Keith’s hands and mouth. “Make me feel good, Keith. Come on—” 

Keith growls, so low that Shiro nearly misses it. He strokes Shiro off harder and presses in again, lapping and licking at Shiro’s hole. Shiro feels the moment Keith’s hand shifts, knows that Keith will touch him deeper. It doesn’t stop him from moaning when Keith’s fingers stroke across his hole, accompanying his tongue in working Shiro open. 

Keith kisses over his hole, familiar and intimate, licking against Shiro the way Keith knows he loves. It makes Shiro a squirming, panting mess, pinned in place but still seeking more. He whimpers as Keith’s tongue licks into him, working him open, shuddering him apart with smooth, steady strokes. 

Keith purrs then, as he often does, and it makes Shiro shudder further, his legs trembling as he jerks them open wider, giving Keith more access. Keith purrs his delight, the feeling vibrating through Shiro enough to make him nearly come then. Keith squeezes around the base of his cock, simply holding him as he focuses on sucking and kissing against his hole. 

Shiro’s a garbling mess by the end of it, rendered speechless the way only Keith can make him. He can just imagine Keith’s delighted grin, his purr a low thrumming sound pulsing through Shiro’s body.

“Fuck,” Keith breathes as he touches Shiro, pulling back to bite his thigh. “Wish I could see your face right now.” 

Shiro wishes it, too. He whimpers, shuddering. “Keith—” 

“I’ve got you,” Keith says, palming his ass and spreading him open. “Gonna take care of you.” 

Shiro can hear the slick sound of Keith stroking himself up, spreading his precome down the full length of his cock. Shiro can picture it perfectly— how dark Keith’s eyes would be now, how he’d lick his palm to slick himself more, guiding his cock to line up against Shiro.

Shiro feels Keith’s cock nudge against him. He slides across him, just rutting, and it makes Shiro hiccup a pleased moan. He rolls his hips back and Keith nearly snarls, gripping Shiro’s hip tight and forcing him how he wants him. 

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro moans as Keith keeps teasing him, sliding his cockhead against Shiro’s hole without actually pressing inside. Keith loves making a mess of Shiro like this, loves to just smear his cockhead against his hole, nudging at the rim but never entering. 

Sometimes, Keith tortures him like this, just pressing the tip in and holding, watching Shiro rattle apart with the desire for _more._ Those are the nights Shiro feels almost feral with want. 

Keith’s purr is smug, confident, and deep, rumbling between them. Shiro nudges his hips back but Keith pins him in place with a firm grip on his hip. His other hand must hold himself, guiding his cock to play with Shiro, smearing spit and precome across his hole. Shiro shudders. 

“Keith,” Shiro says again. “Baby, please—” 

“Yeah?” Keith plays at Shiro’s hole. “You ready for me, Shiro?” 

“Yeah. Please, Keith—” 

Keith strokes his cock, making his fingers slick with Shiro’s precome, smearing it across his hole. Shiro knows Keith’s not above making Shiro come and using that, too, feeding it into Shiro’s body until Keith fucks in after it. But it seems this time, Keith is impatient. 

“Baby—” 

Shiro can’t even finish the thought before Keith shifts, gripping his hips tight, and sliding into him. He fucks into Shiro easily, moving in slow, languid strokes of his cock, and it makes Shiro’s toes curl and his back arch. Or, at least, it would make his back arch if he could move anymore. He thunks his head against the chute and moans, rolling his hips as his belly heaves, the only parts of him he can move. 

He always loves the moment when Keith enters him, how perfectly he fucks into him. Shiro clenches around Keith’s cock and hears him moan. Shiro can picture how he’d look, his hair clinging to his forehead, tipping his head forward as he seats himself fully inside Shiro. Keith always loves to hold himself inside Shiro, to hold him close, to feel Shiro all around him. Proof that they belong to each other. 

Just as Shiro’s about to start whining at Keith to start moving, Keith sets the pace. He rolls his hips in slow, deep thrusts. Pleasure shudders through Shiro as they move together and Shiro groans, his moans sounding louder in the reverberating metal around him. He’s held still by Keith’s sure hands and he lets himself fall into the feeling, just letting Keith take and take and take from him, to fuck him, to make him his. 

He misses kissing Keith, aches to see his face, loves watching him ride out his pleasure, but this is good, too. There’s something primal about being at Keith’s mercy but knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Keith will take care of him, that Keith wants him, that Keith loves to feel him like this. He moans happily as Keith picks up the pace, changing the angle as best he can. 

“Keith—” 

He can do little else but call for Keith, his name tumbling past his lips. He’s surrounded by Keith’s name, surrounded by the feeling of Keith. He can hear Keith purring, hear his hitching growls and moans as Shiro squeezes around him, as Shiro rolls his hips back to meet him. 

Sometimes, it overwhelms Shiro how good Keith feels. It overwhelms him to think that he can have this forever, that he _will_ have this forever, with Keith. That somehow Keith loves him back, somehow Keith wants to be with him always. 

Shiro’s fingers unfurl and he stares at the ring against his palm as Keith fucks him from behind, nudging him deeper and deeper into the chute. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, but all he can manage is a hitching moan as he stares at the ring and envisions asking Keith. 

What a strange and perfect life he has, he thinks, that Keith could walk in on Shiro stuck in a wall and agree to fuck him. The concept is so ludicrous, so ridiculous, that Shiro wants to laugh until he can’t breathe. He loves Keith so completely it feels as natural as breathing. He wants to be with Keith forever.

“Fuck!” Shiro cries out when Keith shifts his hips and angles his thrust enough to glance over Shiro’s prostate. It makes pleasure zing through him, sizzling his thoughts as he instinctively clenches around Keith. 

Keith groans. “Fuck, Shiro—” 

Keith is so beautiful, it’s overwhelming. Shiro wishes he could look at him, wishes he could see the way Keith is falling apart. He settles for clenching around Keith’s cock, coaxing him to fuck deeper into him, to sink into the heat of Shiro’s body. 

“Wish I could see how good you look,” Shiro says, pressing his forehead down against the metal. It’s cool, a counterpoint to how feverish he feels. He rocks his hips back to meet Keith’s hurried thrusts. “Fuck, Keith, I bet you look so damn good, so beautiful, baby, always so beautiful—”

“Shiro,” Keith says, voice close to a yowl. Shiro loves it when he can coax the Galra out of Keith, loves documenting every type of sound he can make when he’s deep in his pleasure, when he’s buried deep inside Shiro or Shiro’s fucking him open. He always looks so good, always ready for whatever Shiro wants to give him. 

Keith sets a frantic pace and Shiro knows he’s close, knows he can only handle so much. Keith runs his hands over Shiro, touching every inch of him that he can reach. He hears a thunk and thinks Keith might be thudding his forehead against the wall in an effort to get closer to Shiro, too. 

Keith is the first to come. Shiro feels it cresting over Keith in the way his pace becomes haphazard, in the way his breathing changes and the sounds he makes turns high-pitched and whining. He calls out Shiro’s name, his nails digging tight into his hips as he grips Shiro, burying inside him and filling him with come. 

Shiro feels that, too, feels the way Keith fills him. It makes Shiro shudder, wishing he could take more, wishing he could push Keith down and ride him, milking him and clenching around him. Keith keens then, low and throaty, and Shiro clamps down around Keith as he fucks into him.

“Keith,” Shiro whimpers. 

He doesn’t even have to ask. As soon as Keith gets sense of himself, he grips Shiro’s cock and strokes him off. He’s still buried inside Shiro, come warm within him, and it takes a laughably short amount of time before Shiro’s clenching around Keith’s cock and coming on his fingers. 

Shiro feels relaxation ripple through him. He slumps, held up by Keith’s sure hold around his hips, and rides out his orgasm. He feels floaty and serene in the wake of it, breathless and so, so satisfied. Keith always treats him right. 

Keith holds still and then whines low in his throat. “Fuck. I want to kiss you.” 

Shiro laughs, eyes closed. “You can kiss me all you want once you get the wolf.” 

“In a minute,” Keith says, running his hands over Shiro’s skin. “You need a moment to come down before I pull out.”

“Mmm,” Shiro hums, feeling strangely comfortable despite his position. His back is going to ache like crazy once he starts moving again, he just knows it, but the ache will be worth it. “Hope you weren’t too bored with only my ass to look at.”

Keith chuckles and squeezes one cheek. “You underestimate how much I love looking at your ass.” 

Shiro laughs, and then groans when Keith pulls out. He goes slow, taking his time, but Shiro still bites back a whimper at the loss. He shudders a gasp when Keith starts teasing him again, as he typically does, his fingers playing at Shiro’s hole, feeding the come that leaks out of him back into his body, like Keith can’t bear the idea of Shiro being empty of him, either. 

“Keith,” Shiro groans, body shuddering in the aftershocks of orgasm, just on the edge of too much and oversensitive. 

Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s lower back. His fingers slide inside him, plugging him up. “You were so good for me, big guy.”

“Keith…” Shiro says with a sigh, aching to arch and roll over, to curl his legs around Keith and coax him closer, to lean up and catch Keith’s mouth in a sweet kiss. 

“Want me to get the wolf now?” Keith asks, stroking his fingers inside him. 

The idea of going a second round is tempting, but Shiro thinks he wants to be out of the hole for it, so he can see Keith. Keith hums his agreement when Shiro says as much. Shiro still mourns the loss of Keith’s fingers when he withdraws and fixes Shiro’s clothes for him. 

Keith whistles, high-pitched and a purposeful tune meant to summon the wolf. Shiro doesn’t see the wolf arrive, but he hears the strange magic of his appearance, the buzz in the air and the tingling feeling of sparkles. 

Shiro loses his orientation entirely when the wolf nudges at his ankle, jaw closing gently enough around him to initiate contact but not accidentally pierce his skin with sharp teeth. Shiro blinks back into existence, upright and out of the wall.

Keith is there for him instantly, hands curling around his shoulders and kissing him. His knuckles knead into Shiro’s sore muscles at his back and shoulders and it makes Shiro groan into the kiss, melting utterly as Keith holds him up. The kiss is filthy and Shiro’s distantly aware of the wolf quickly flickering away again just before Keith crawls into Shiro’s lap. 

“Welcome back,” Keith says with a grin when he draws away, bumping his forehead to Shiro’s. “There are those eyes I love so much.” 

Shiro laughs and purposefully bats his eyelashes. “That’s my line.” 

Keith’s eyes are dark, just as Shiro knew they’d be, the sclera hinting yellow in the aftermath of orgasm. So beautiful. Shiro loves staring into Keith’s eyes. 

“Come on,” Keith says, taking his hands. “Let’s skip that policy meeting and just—” 

Keith cuts off as he unfurls Shiro’s fingers, looking down at the ring on Shiro’s palm.

The ring Shiro completely forgot he was holding. The ring he’d meant to quickly hide before Keith saw. The ring he’d made this entire excuse for so Keith wouldn’t suspect the true reason he was in the hole. He’d meant to hide it while Keith was blissed out from orgasm, tucking it securely into his pocket before Keith could even notice.

Keith blinks, staring down at the ring. 

Oops. 

Shiro didn’t have any set plans for a proposal, but he definitely never pictured offering Keith the ring right after they fucked, and especially not after Keith fucked Shiro into a _wall_. 

Keith’s eyes widen. He sits in Shiro’s lap, sweaty and cheeks red, his hair a mess against his forehead, and he’s not looking away from the ring. 

Shiro does the first thing he can think of: he thrusts the ring right at Keith, sending it flying all over again so that it bounces off Keith’s chest. 

“F- for you!” 

Not his smoothest moment, certainly. 

Keith catches the ring mid-air, making the gesture look easy, and stares down at it in a puzzled sort of curiosity. “Shiro, is this—” 

“Marry me!” Shiro says before he can think to not say it. He holds his breath. 

He knew Keith would say yes, once he asked. He wanted it to be perfect, maybe, but Shiro never doubted. He doesn’t cringe as he says the words, but he mourns the perfect proposal that will never be. 

It’s a relief when Keith blinks and then laughs, his entire face brightening into a sunny expression, the shock and delight clear in his eyes. “Shiro, what the fuck—” 

“Will you?” 

Instead of answering, Keith drops the ring into his lap and reaches for Shiro with both hands, kissing him senseless. His hands are gentle where he touches Shiro’s face, his lips soft. It’s hard to kiss Keith because they’re both smiling too much. Keith’s fang scrapes across Shiro’s bottom lip. 

Keith barely gives Shiro the chance to appreciate the kiss before he draws away again. He picks the ring back up, grinning as he slips it onto his finger. Shiro’s heart shoves up hard against his chest, his throat tight. 

He never imagined it could look so good, the way the gold glints on Keith’s finger. 

“Can’t believe you just proposed to me after coming out of a hole,” Keith says. 

There’s a joke about coming in holes buried somewhere in there, Shiro thinks. Instead of saying anything lewd aloud, he just grins. He feels delirious and overwhelmed in the best way. “Sorry, I wanted to do something more romantic but—” 

Keith kisses him, firm and possessive. There’s the slightest growl in his throat when he draws back, his hand cupping Shiro’s face. Shiro can feel the cool kiss of the metal from the ring against his burning cheek. 

Shiro grins wider and Keith grins back, laughing.

“You’re perfect,” Keith says. “I can’t believe you just did that!” 

“That’s a yes?” 

“Yes, you ridiculous man,” Keith says, voice going soft. “Obviously yes.” 

Shiro kisses him again, laughing at his ridiculousness but not caring in the least if this is the result. Keith wraps his arms around him, pulling him in close and kissing him hard, the cold kiss of the ring a steady tattoo against Shiro’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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